


paper cranes

by sowish



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Growing Pains, Songfic, and heejin’s the student body president, friends to kinda lovers to kinda strangers to lovers, hyunjin’s a basketball jock in this, in this house we say no to martyr decisions in relationships!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 12:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19357534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sowish/pseuds/sowish
Summary: Hyunjin looks pretty right side up and even upside down. Five-year-old Heejin and eighteen-year-old Heejin could agree on that no matter how much everything changes.orHyunjin doesn't count how many paper cranes she makes in her lifetime, but she's pretty sure she has made enough for Heejin to make a wish.





	paper cranes

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to kim for introducing ruel's younger to me and giving me the idea to write this!! here's the link to the mv if you'd like to watch it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r90FuOuqE60
> 
> i have....so many things im working on but this one came to me the quickest!
> 
> hope you enjoy :D

Hyunjin looks pretty under the moonlight. Behind her, a light casts a gentle glow of white and it illuminates her smile while Heejin hangs upside down on the pull-up bar. Sitting on top of the monkey bars, Hyunjin revels in the peace that comes with being alone with Heejin at midnight. Only the two of them, the moon, and the low chirping of crickets, it’s like the world stops for them.

 

Heejin has spent many nights like this with Hyunjin—walking aimlessly through the town, twirling around lamp posts, precariously balancing on beams, hands holding tight to the ones walking on steady ground. Being with her on these nights are serene, a break from realitdoesny, and her sanity. It’s laughing with Hyunjin until her stomach hurts and tears well up in her eyes, it’s holding her hand and stuffing them into her jacket’s pocket to keep them warm in the cold winter. 

 

The days too are occupied by Hyunjin. The sun makes the coffee brown of her eyes shine and it makes Heejin’s breath catch. In the daytime, Heejin can see how the corner of her crinkle when she laughs, can see how clouds tumble by with Hyunjin’s arms behind her head when they lie on the grass to watch how the sky changes and bleeds from blue to orange and pink.

 

Heejin could always count on Hyunjin, could always find her laced through her days and nights. Ever since they were young, Hyunjin was always be by her side, growing alongside her and watching how the sun rose and fell every day. Biking along the Han River, sipping banana milk at the park, playing tag, dancing carelessly, Heejin had grown to see how Hyunjin changes through the tears. Growing to be just taller than her, Hyunjin’s wide smile is still the same, her laugh too. Getting to be stronger too with all of the sports she comes to do throughout all of the years, Hyunjin has spent innumerable nights helping Heejin doing pull-ups that just ended up with the other girl hanging upside down on them rather than pulling herself up. (And thus, in those nights, she helps Heejin’s hands find the bar so that she could flip herself upright again.)

 

Experiencing life with Hyunjin for as long as Heejin has, she has grown to know Hyunjin better than she knows herself. She knows how Hyunjin likes her rice (not too soggy, but not too dry), how Hyunjin has a shorter pinky finger on her right hand (she had jammed it when she tried to rebound a loose ball during a basketball game at one of her club tournaments and Hyunjin cried after the game so Heejin lightly kissed it after her coach tended to it and wrapped a metal splint on it—her affection didn’t make the pain go away, but it certainly distracted her from it), how Hyunjin hates raisins in her banana bread (because they were too sour and she liked her desserts almost teeth-rottingly sweet), how Hyunjin disguises her affection with teasing (Heejin is her main target mostly because she likes how she reacts to her jestering with small curled fists and cute pouty lips), how Hyunjin likes making origami cranes to fill up her time being bored (Hyunjin has given enough of them to Heejin for her to hang a flock of them on her ceiling with enough extra to scatter on her windowsill and work desk). She knows how Hyunjin would much rather spend her nights at her house because her father shouted too much and too loudly that it startled her—knows that even though Hyunjin looks tough, she’s really just terrified of being hurt.

 

And just as she knows Hyunjin well, Heejin knows when things start to change. It’s the beginning of senior year and it all starts with Hyunjin rejecting Heejin’s offer to hang around at the park because she promised a teammate of hers that she would hang out with her. Reasonably, Heejin lets it pass, but the next time she sees Hyunjin, a white stick sits between her pointer and middle finger. Watching as she puffs on it and the end’s embers light a bright orange, the smell is foul but not new to her. When Hyunjin offers her it with curious eyes and Heejin shakes her head, it’s the first time Hyunjin feels far away from her. It’s not that Heejin has anything against marijuana, just knew that it wasn’t hers to indulge in. She just thought that Hyunjin would have the same belief.

 

It’s the first time Heejin stumbles and gets something wrong about Hyunjin.

 

From there on, Heejin sees less of her in the daytime, even less of her in the night time. Caught in her new friends and the things they do, Hyunjin starts to blur away. Even if Heejin sees her still, it’s not the same. Watching as the girl tries to kickflip on her new skateboard, the white stick in between her fingers is an unfamiliar stranger to Heejin. The sky is overcast—grey and gloomy and cold—just as it feels between her and Hyunjin. It never used to feel that way. Even on the coldest and bleakest of days, Hyunjin made her feel warm with her babyish laugh and her fingers laced with hers.

 

It’s getting harder trying to talk to Hyunjin, trying to find similarity and the things that spark interest in her eyes. It’s harder trying to get through to her, to get her to smile and laugh, to get her to tease her again like she used to. Hyunjin is someone new and Heejin would patiently wait for the Hyunjin she knows and loves to come back. Because throughout the years of growing up with Hyunjin, she came to love her too. In what way, Heejin doesn’t know, but that never mattered to her. Especially now. Too focused on watching Hyunjin slip between the cracks of her fingers, Heejin tries to remember all of the things that made her feel so reverently and sincerely for her.

 

She tries to remember how Hyunjin packs two banana milks and doubles of her lunch because she knows that Heejin would rather sleep than take the time to prepare her lunch and snack. She tries to remember how Hyunjin doesn’t laugh at her when Heejin shoots a free throw and the ball rainbows under the net, how Hyunjin comes behind her to adjust her hand under the ball and how gentle her voice is when she tells her to bend her knees and to focus on how her guiding hand’s follow through. She tries to remember how pride bloomed in her eyes when Heejin won the presidential position on the student council for her senior year, how Hyunjin had spent hours painting posters with her and incessantly told everyone she knew to vote for her because Heejin is the most reliable and loyal person she knows.

 

She tries to remember how Hyunjin holds her on nights where everything feels like too much, how she runs her hands through her hair to comfort her, how Hyunjin weathered through the hours of watching _Naruto_ for and with her. She tries to remember how good it felt to be around her, how secure and right it felt.

 

But sometimes, there’s no use clutching onto a memory that has passed.

 

Everything changes way too quickly, far too abruptly for Heejin’s likes, so much that it gives her whiplash.

 

When Hyunjin comes late into one of their classes, Heejin can smell the very faint scent of marijuana when Hyunjin sits next to her and adjusts her hair to the front. Watching her unfocused eyes and how she slumps in her seat, a part of Heejin twists and turmoils. It’s not the first time that this has happened. Hyunjin never used to be tardy, always early or on time to class, her notebook and pen out ready to take notes. She had always been studious and motivated to do well in school. But, now, Hyunjin comes late to class, sometimes just barely catching the last fifteen minutes of it and Hyunjin doesn’t need to tell her, the red angry marks on her test is enough, that she is doing poorly on her tests. Watching as her best friend—someone who she came to love as something more—begins to spiral, Heejin couldn’t just sit and stare at how Hyunjin starts to change for the worst.

 

~

 

There’s never a right time for confrontation. There’s never a perfect time for Heejin to talk to Hyunjin about her change in behavior. It’s not like Hyunjin was hurting anyone, if anything, she was only hurting herself. (But then, in turn, it hurts Heejin to watch how she spirals, how the light in Hyunjin’s eyes dim). Acknowledging reality, recognizing the disparity between her and Hyunjin isn’t easy; it breaks her heart to watch how distant Hyunjin became whilst still being right next to her. Heejin didn’t want to leave her comfort zone, didn’t want to desert the spot meant for her beside Hyunjin, but sometimes, the world can prove things to be necessary.

 

On a day where Hyunjin isn’t preoccupied with basketball and her friends, Heejin is able to take a moment of her time. It’s been awhile since they have gone to the park that they used to hang out at—the same park Heejin hangs upside down at—and Heejin felt her excitement to see Hyunjin bubbling in her stomach. She has missed her even if she saw Hyunjin almost everyday. (It’s not just Hyunjin she misses. She misses the old Hyunjin).

 

When Hyunjin pulls up, she turns off the engine and throws rocks at Heejin’s window the way she always used to do. Coming outside, the smile that Heejin loves is fixed on Hyunjin’s lips and it reminds her of the days when the other girl used to smile so freely and innocently—before Hyunjin had to grow up and see that the world was unkind. With Hyunjin holding her arm out, Heejin laces her arm through it and nuzzles into Hyunjin’s cheek with her nose. Everything feels the way it used to—the same unbridled innocence, the pure hope for a good day, the optimism that everything is okay. 

 

Walking to the park with her, balancing on the beam on the way there with her hands tightly grasping onto Hyunjin’s to keep herself steady, and listening to her soft and smooth voice makes Heejin forget that anything was ever wrong in the first place. Just like those nights at the park before, Heejin hangs at the pull-up bar while Hyunjin sits on top of the monkey bars, two bottles of banana milk open and on the floor. When Hyunjin gets down from the monkey bars and sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Heejin, she’s close enough for Heejin to see how her eyelashes flutter with every blink.

 

“I miss being with you like this.”

 

Heejin finds comfort in knowing that she wasn’t the only one to miss the way things used to be.

 

“I do too, so much.”

 

Hyunjin sighs and Heejin can barely see how her eyes shut in shame. “I’m sorry for pushing you aside the way that I have been. There’s just been so much happening.”

 

Blindly reaching her hands out to squish her cheeks, Heejin smiles at how Hyunjin lets her and how she allows for her to smoosh them with gentle hands, “It’s okay; I understand that sometimes things need to happen for you to figure things out.”

 

Hyunjin sighs and she holds the hands cupping her cheeks. “It’s not okay. You didn’t deserve to be pushed away like that.”

 

Pulling her face closer, Heejin kisses her forehead without thought, something that she has done since they were kids whenever Hyunjin accidentally hurt her and seeked for her forgiveness. “Maybe it’s not okay, but there’s no use in dwelling in the past. I know you; I can feel how sorry you are. Just, don’t do it again, please. Does that sound good?”

 

Heejin sees how the canines in Hyunjin’s teeth show when she smiles genuinely and sees how Hyunjin’s shoulders loosen up, “It sounds perfect, Heekkie.” 

 

When Hyunjin kisses her cheek, right where her mole is (she doesn’t need light to know where it is, has kissed it enough to know exactly where it is), Heejin thinks of all of the times Hyunjin has kissed the marks on her face and even the ones on her arms. It started with Heejin being insecure in them, how she thought that they were imperfections on her face. It ended with Hyunjin kissing them every single day until Heejin saw the charm behind them. And even when Heejin begins to love her beauty marks, Hyunjin still occasionally kisses them—usually when she’s at her happiest and most peaceful. 

 

(Even when they were younger, she used to kiss the marks because it was just something she wanted to do. Hyunjin used to kiss the ones on her neck too before they both grew up and learned that kisses in certain places meant more than others. The mole on her bottom lip was no exception to that. When they were five, Hyunjin had kissed her quickly and playfully over their cups of milk and then proceeded to dunk her cookie into her milk right after it.

 

It’s not exactly a first kiss, but Heejin still considers it as one because she likes the thought of Hyunjin being her first kiss.)

 

“You know you’ll always have me, right? If you need someone to listen, I must say that I’m pretty good at that. And if you just wanna sit alone together, we can do that too.”

 

When Hyunjin’s thumbs lightly brushes against the upturn of Heejin’s lips, her own smile widens at the playful one Heejin wears, “Yeah; that’s the one thing I’ve never doubted, Heejin. And you know you’ve got me too?”

 

The way Heejin’s heart quickens at her words is nothing new to her. Same with the comfort it brings to her. When Heejin nods her head as an answer, Hyunjin laughs and sits up again.

 

“Have you had enough of the blood rushing to your head?”

 

Muffled from how Heejin groans at the pain coming to her now, Hyunjin helps her down from the pull-up bar. Heejin can barely take two steps before stumbling. When Hyunjin squats down in front of her, Heejin doesn’t even need to be told to get onto her back. (This also happened often too—Heejin losing her coordination from hanging too long and focing Hyunjin to walk them wherever they pleased to go.)

 

Being carried along the lit streets of the city, Hyunjin follows the directions Heejin gives her. “So, what does our ASB President have planned for the school’s Winter Formal?” Launching into all of the ideas and things she has to get done before the day of the dance, Hyunjin attentively listens as Heejin rattles off and away. 

 

Walking to Heejin’s home again, with the other girl walking now too, Hyunjin stops at Heejin’s mailbox before opening it. Watching her with curious eyes, Hyunjin pulls out something from it.

 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I stashed this in your mailbox because I didn’t want it to get crushed.”

 

Unraveling her hands and revealing a pink paper crane, Hyunjin lays it in Heejin’s open hands, “Unfold it.”

 

Heejin frowns, “Why? We both know that I won’t be able to fold it back together.”

 

Hyunjin smiles and she wraps an arm around her shoulder and giggles into her hair—it’s a sound, a feeling, a moment that Heejin chooses to remember, to engrave in her memories.

 

“I’ll fold it right back up for you. Just, open it, please?”

 

Cautiously unfolding it with Hyunjin’s help, in neat and tidy writing—something that Hyunjin doesn’t have unless she tries especially hard—Heejin can make out the words on it.

 

_Be my date to winter formal?_

 

Feeling Hyunjin’s eyes focused on her, how intense and attentive her gaze is, Heejin can’t stop the smile that blooms from her lips, can’t stop her heart from pounding and racing, can’t stop her elation. When she tries to kiss Hyunjin’s cheek, she barely grazes the corner of her lips and it makes blood rush to her cheeks, “I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else, Hyun.” When Hyunjin curls her further into her arms and kisses the temple of her forehead, Heejin hopes and prays to every deity out there that this night is not just a dream, not just a scarily elaborate and beautiful imagination her brain conjured up.

 

Before heading in, Hyunjin folds the paper crane again, this time, the words on the outside. When Heejin holds the pink crane in her hands after getting ready for sleep, she places it right by the picture of her and Hyunjin on her nightstand by her bed. 

 

Heejin hopes that this will be a turn of change, that Hyunjin will no longer feel eons away from her despite being so close to her.

 

When Heejin wakes in the morning and is met with the sight of the pink crane on her bedside table, Heejin has the sleepy mind to kiss it before snoozing her phone for an extra ten minutes of sleep.

 

(When Heejin fully rises, she can’t remember kissing the paper crane, thinks that maybe she imagined doing it, has too much shame to rifle for the answer that it wasn’t just a blurry confusion between dreaming and reality.)

 

~

 

When Winter Formal comes, everything is too good to be true. 

 

From the way Heejin is dressed (and how Hyunjin coordinates with her) to how Heejin picked the right DJ for the dance, the night is like a dream—it’s everything cliche Heejin could want for her last Winter Formal. It’s Hyunjin being lost for words when she sees her, her mother taking pictures, Hyunjin slipping a corsage over her wrist (and Heejin doing the same for her), and dinner at some fancy restaurant (it doesn’t stop Hyunjin from playing around with her food and making a mustache out of breadsticks). It’s coming to the dance with her arm laced with Hyunjin’s, bouncing with her to the energetic songs, and swaying along with her for the slow ones. The feeling of Hyunjin’s arms around her waist, her forehead on hers, hearing her voice amidst the speakers in the dance hall, and seeing how she smiles when Heejin twirls her around is enough for everything to feel like a hazy dream of fluttering butterflies and a flurry of euphoria.

 

The haze of it all crashes when Hyunjin is dropping her off after the dance. 

 

Searching for her clutch, Heejin opens the front compartment at the passenger seat of Hyunjin’s car and instead of finding it, she is met with an abnormal amount of plastic orange canisters, all with green buds in them.

 

“I found it! I forgot that I-”

 

When Hyunjin circles around her car to hand the girl’s clutch to her, she freezes like a deer in headlights.

 

“Hyunjin, what is this?”

 

“It’s not what it looks like.”

 

Heejin frowns, the glossy dream of the night ripped away from her hands.

 

“Then what is it, Hyunjin?”

 

“Listen, I’m not doing weed anymore. I can’t because of the testing for basketball. People just buy it off of me.”

 

Heejin’s eyebrows shoot up, her voice in a hushed whisper, “You’re people’s plug?”

 

Hyunjin runs a hand through her hair, panicked and anxious, “Jesus, Heejin. It’s not like that. I just distribute whatever my plug gives me.”

 

Everything feels too real, too much for Heejin to process and accept in such an abrupt amount of time, “This can get you in trouble, Hyunjin! You’re not even old enough to smoke legally. What the fuck are you thinking? You’d be in deep shit if someone else found this!”

 

Frustration and panic never pairs well together, especially if it’s Hyunjin facing someone that she never wanted to disappoint. 

 

(It’s too late for that).

 

“You think I don’t know that, Heejin? You wouldn’t get it so just leave it be.”

 

Without realizing, Heejin’s voice turns scathing, “Wouldn’t get it? It’d help if you told me what the fuck was going on in your life, Hyunjin! It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. The Hyunjin I know wouldn’t do stupid shit like this. Especially when she has scholarships lined up for her. I don’t like what’s happening to you, the type of person you’re turning into.”

 

When Hyunjin turns away from her, Heejin can see how her fingers are curled into a fist, how tense her shoulders are. When she turns back around, Heejin is met with a vision that she wished she would never have to see, would have never wished to be the person at the opposite end. But, wishes don’t come true. Her eyes are sharp and cold, her voice low and her tone pointed and caustic, “Well, have you thought that people fucking change, Heejin? Things change and people have to go along with it. I’m changing and if it’s not good enough for you, if this Hyunjin in front of you isn’t the one you want, then you’re better off leaving.”

 

Slamming the car door closed, Heejin takes one last look at Hyunjin and feels pain at how she fails to recognize the girl in front of her—how she is only a shell of the person that she loves.

 

(It’s inconceivable to Heejin how only an hour ago, they were swaying together amidst the bodies of high school students and how it felt like they were the only ones there, how good it felt to be in her arms, how Hyunjin felt like the girl that Heejin has always loved).

 

Striding past her, taking her clutch that was still being held in Hyunjin’s hand, and doing the best that she can to not look back, Heejin refuses to give her heart the pain of watching Hyunjin’s face when she walks away, “Maybe I am, Hyunjin.”

 

When the door to Heejin’s house slams shut, it’s the first time Hyunjin cries without having anyone to run to. It’s the first time she doesn’t have someone to talk her through it, to run their hands through her hair to calm her down. How could she when the only person who gave her the time and day for it just left her?

 

Now, more than ever, Hyunjin feels alone.

 

The one person who she could count on to weather out her storms and to wait out the chaos thundering through her couldn’t withstand the one that has been tearing through her life for the last couple of months.

 

Loneliness is a deafening silence to sit in.

 

A silence that often Heejin could override with her endless stories, her laugh, and her presence alone.

 

Hyunjin cries and there’s not a single thing in the world that could ease the pain of losing someone—of not being good enough, of disappointing the one person she loves, of being helplessly hopeless. 

 

Hyunjin knew she was a lost cause the moment her father disowned her and only extended a cold household for her to live in. If her mother couldn’t stay and if her father couldn’t have the humility to love her, how could anyone else?

 

For the briefest of moments, Heejin made her believe that someone could, that she could be that someone. But, who would stay for someone who could barely get through her day without fucking something up? Surely, it’s too great of a responsibility to give to anyone, too much of a burden for Heejin to shoulder.

 

A dream turned nightmare, a pink paper crane shredded into an irreparable mess, and a relationship equally in ruins wasn’t how Heejin expected her night to go.

 

She didn’t expect to fall asleep crying with a heavy emptiness in her heart, an anchoring feeling of guilt and grief.

 

She didn’t expect to leave Hyunjin—she even made a promise to her that she wouldn’t.

 

But, Hyunjin knows all too well that promises are meant to be broken.

 

She just thought that Heejin would be the exception.

 

~

 

When the next morning comes, Heejin’s notification center is a mess of Instagram likes and comments, her Snapchat bubbles attending to their streaks.

 

But, not a single text from the one person Heejin ached to hear from most.

 

Heejin doesn’t know what to expect after being the person to leave. She never failed to consider how it meant not having good morning and good night texts, not having Hyunjin texting her random pictures of fancy looking birds just to mess with her, how unusual it felt to start her day off without Hyunjin sending a song of the day.

 

Going to school without Hyunjin by her side feels wrong. Even in the classes where they used to sit together feels different because Hyunjin asked for a seat change. She had hid and distanced herself well enough that if Heejin hadn’t known Hyunjin for the past eighteen years of her life, Hyunjin could have drifted by without a single thought.

 

(But, Heejin does. She knows everything that there is to know about her, or at least, she used to. Or she still does, but is just left behind in the dark while the new things about Hyunjin basked in the sunlight. She spent her years growing with her, has the feelings and the constant thoughts to attest to it. She feels enough of the pain digging at her heart and the loneliness following her footsteps to show for it.) 

 

Even when she searches for Hyunjin’s eyes from across the room, Hyunjin’s are flittering everywhere around the room except for where Heejin sits. Even when Heejin rushes to pack her two pencil pouches into her backpack to beat Hyunjin out of the room to wait for her, Hyunjin is nimble enough to wiggle away from her. 

 

In an endless chase for the girl that she left, Heejin doesn’t know why she tries to reach her—supposes that it’s the guilt eating away at her heart.

 

(Or is it the love that hasn’t eroded even with the days passing by without her?)

 

(It’s both.)

 

~

 

Heejin doesn’t understand her heart’s conflict.

 

She had chosen to leave because the Hyunjin that Heejin saw that night was not the Hyunjin that Heejin loves, yet, still, her heart aches to be with her, mourns not being around her. She misses seeing her smile and her bright eyes, misses having her company. She misses their walks at night, their trips to the park by her house. She misses finding paper cranes in her locker, on her desk. 

 

But still, her stubbornness would not allow for her to give in, would not allow for her to text or call the one number that she has memorized. That is, until Hyunjin and the rest of the girl’s basketball team advances to the national championship after fighting hard to maintain ahead in their semi-final game. (Thanks to Hyunjin and her court vision and stellar shot, she was able to pull her team together to carry on strong through overtime).

 

The day before the girl’s basketball team has their important championship game, Heejin sits in her room, her homework left unattended to. Her finger hovering over Hyunjin’s name that is still favorited, in a rush of impulsiveness, she calls her. Knowing Hyunjin, the girl is probably a mess of nerves and anxiety. Heejin could imagine her pacing back and forth in her room, studying flashcards of their plays, forcing herself outside to run suicides to distract herself from the anticipation. Heejin knows what this game means to Hyunjin, knows that the scouts watching her play has the utmost importance, knows that Hyunjin needs someone to bring her down from her anxiety and fear. (And Heejin isn’t wrong. At the time that Heejin sits at the desk in her room, Hyunjin is pacing her room to ease the stress weighing on her heart and she then decides to slip on her trainers to run everything off).

 

The ringer goes off twice before abruptly shutting off. Looking at the contact name—the nickname, yellow heart and cat emojis still attached, Heejin feels a startling sense of finality.

 

Searching for Hyunjin’s name in her address book, it feels odd to type out her name because she never needed to search for it. In a breath, she deletes her number.

 

(Heejin feels the wash of regret, but chooses to ignore how it drowns her).

 

Even when Hyunjin’s name disappears from her phone, the number that Heejin has memorized since she was in sixth grade doesn’t. (Nor do the pictures of them together on her phone. Heejin doesn’t have the heart to erase all of the traces that Hyunjin has left behind in her life, isn’t ready to completely let her go—not when she still loves her even if her mind is adamantly telling her something different.)

 

The next day, the gym is packed to the brim with students and spectators. It’s not often that girl’s basketball can generate this much speculation, but it’s not often that the school is in such a high stake of competition and level of playing. Heejin is in the stands with her hands feeling empty. (Usually she would be holding posters or a big head of Hyunjin to cheer her on, but with everything that has happened, something holds her back). At the end of it, Hyunjin and her team wins the game and Heejin is too lost in the bliss of victory and school pride (and pride for Hyunjin for being the highest scoring and assisting guard in the league). With her emotions at a high, Heejin doesn’t have the sense to stop her scrolling in her Messages app.

 

She couldn’t send a text in a conversation that she erased, shouldn’t text a number that she deleted in order for her to drill in the thought that she left Hyunjin to her own vices, that she is no longer the person that Heejin knows and loves.

 

Instead, she watches as Hyunjin’s team carries her on their shoulders, watches as a cheerleader tugs Hyunjin into a celebratory kiss when she is put down and can’t help but to focus on how Hyunjin’s hands rest at her waist to pull her in even closer.

 

If the pain of losing her wasn’t enough, watching her kiss someone that wasn’t her throttles her heart into a shattering mess of destruction.

 

Even if they were never together in that way, even if Hyunjin never really kissed her past the time she was five, Heejin held onto the rose-colored fantasy she had of what could have been.

 

She didn’t want to leave her—didn’t want to lose her.

 

But, fuck, the universe is doing its damned best to tell her that everything is over.

 

Heejin doesn’t want to listen. Wants to refuse to listen. But, how could she fight the whole universe?

 

(Nonetheless, without questions asked, she would throw herself into the losing fight if Hyunjin was ever concerned).

 

~

 

The next time Hyunjin talks to her, it's during a night of chaos.

 

Coming to the Spring Break party that she was invited to by her fellow treasurer, Heejin feels a bit out of place amongst the loud music, drunk and dancing teenagers, and the wafting smell of marijuana. Nursing her drink and side stepping a pile of vomit on the floor, Heejin comes to sit on the bench in the backyard and hopes that nothing bad happened on it.

 

“Never thought I’d find our goody-two-shoes princess at a high school party.”

 

Heejin knows that voice. She could recognize the soft and smooth sound anywhere.

 

She can’t help how her heart picks up its pace when Heejin turns to find her leaning against the wall opposite to the bench. Illuminated under the bright bright patio lights, Heejin can see the slight redness in Hyunjin’s eyes and takes note of the alcohol on Hyunjin’s breath when she comes closer.

 

“Hyunjin.”

 

The other girl closes her eyes and slumps onto the bench, her arms coming to rest on the back of it.

 

It’s the closest Heejin has been to her since December. (It’s an awfully long time, so much that Heejin doesn’t recognize her body subconsciously leaning into the arm behind her).

 

“Glad to know you still remember my name.”

 

Heejin rotates the cup in her hand and steals glances at the girl beside her.

 

“How could I forget?”

 

Hyunjin shrugs, a snickering smile on her lips. (It’s too mocking and cold for Heejin’s liking.)

 

“You left me easily enough. Forgetting my name should have been a breeze for you.”

 

Hyunjin’s voice is cynical and cold, detached from the world, from Heejin. And everything feels too real, too intense for words of fluff and lies to have any room in the conversation.

 

“It wasn’t easy leaving you, Hyunjin. I’ve missed you so much.”

 

Hyunjin’s eyes slowly pop open and she has trouble focusing on the girl in front of her, “That’s bullshit, Heejin. If it wasn’t easy leaving, you would’ve never left me to begin with. You can’t miss someone that you leave behind—my mother’s taught me that well enough.”

 

Heejin can’t help how she feels offended, how Hyunjin compares her to someone who didn’t even stay long enough to watch Hyunjin take her first steps—to compare her to someone who doesn’t have the slightest idea of her when Heejin had an encyclopedia worth of knowledge on her.

 

“I’m not like your mother, Hyunjin. You don’t have the right to determine if I’ve missed you or not.”

 

Hyunjin scoffs and her drink sloshes around when she points at her, “You’re not like that woman but you still left me like she did. Everyone leaves, Heejin. You’re no exception.”

 

Heejin stands up from her seat on the bench, her frustration mounting, “I didn’t want to leave you! I never planned on leaving you. I-”

 

Hyunjin stands too, wavering at the sudden change of orientation. With her voice rising, it’s the first time Hyunjin yells at her with serious intent, “You still fuckin’ left me, Heejin! You left me behind! Just like my mom. Just like my dad. You left me to deal with all of my shit alone! You promised me that you’d stay and I actually fucking believed you. I believed that you wouldn’t hurt me the way everyone else did.”

 

When Hyunjin paces around in front of her, with her steps being uncoordinated and sloppy, Heejin watches with pitiful eyes at the mess in front of her. It hurts to watch Hyunjin unravel at the seams like this, to see her gone enough for her to let her walls down in front of someone that she would usually avoid like the plague (it also hurts Heejin to acknowledge that she is that someone). To watch Hyunjin fall apart and not know if it was appropriate—or if Hyunjin would even accept her comfort—to bring her back down, to console her the way she used to when they were younger hurts Heejin more than she would care to know or feel. The uncertainty is far too foreign and she doesn’t like the thought of Hyunjin becoming a stranger.

 

When Hyunjin stops pacing and stands in front of her, Heejin can see the pain clouding her eyes, how the months have taken a toll on her heart. To watch the person that she has spent so long loving hurting as much as Hyunjin is, it sends a pang to the incessant digging pain to her heart.

 

Like a switch that is flipped, the anger that Hyunjin wears fades into fatal weariness—Heejin knows her well enough to see that Hyunjin has made herself fully vulnerable to her, if by the undoing of exhaustion. When Hyunjin rests a hand on her cheek, it’s gentle and soft, and if Heejin closes her eyes, she misses her enough to make herself believe that they’re back at the park that they used to go to. When Hyunjin caresses the pads of her thumb along the expanse of her cheekbone, it makes Heejin’s knees falter the slightest. (It would have been noticeable if Hyunjin wasn’t too far gone to barely focus on the nose in front of her). 

 

“I’m a liability to you and I’m sorry for forcing you to choose. For not being someone worth your time and effort. I wanted to be. I tried really hard to be. But, we both know it wasn’t enough.”

 

(And God, was Hyunjin wrong. She was always enough, just losing against the struggle of fighting the world.)

 

Placing her hand over the one of her cheek, it’s like a breath of fresh air when she feels the familiar warmth radiating from Hyunjin’s hands, “I’m sorry for not staying. For not being strong enough to wait for you, to understand you.”

 

A tear falls from Hyunjin’s eyes and Heejin wipes it away before it even rolls past her lips. It’s the first time in months that Hyunjin cries and has someone to comfort her through it. Shutting her eyes, more tears fall from them and they’re tears that Heejin wipes away, “It was never your responsibility to stay. I shouldn’t have been unfair to you and expected that of you.”

 

When Heejin kisses the palm that is still gently cupping her cheek, Hyunjin begins to sob, “Staying isn’t a responsibility. I stayed for as long as I did, and I wished that I stayed because I love you and that’s what you do when you love someone. You stay and you don’t leave when things get tough. You do what you can, get the help that you can, and you stay. And I didn’t do any of that for you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

 

When Hyunjin cries even more, Heejin sits back down on the bench with the girl’s head in her lap. Threading her fingers through her hair and humming a song that Hyunjin once sent her to start off her day, Heejin does what she has always done to console her to bring her back down. When Hyunjin falls asleep in her lap, Heejin doesn’t have it in her to wake her up. Sitting there until the sun rises, Heejin is too worried about Hyunjin to care about how numb her butt is, to feel tired even if she is up way past her bedtime. Watching as the sun comes to the open abyss of the sky, Heejin can finally see Hyunjin at her most peaceful. Without a single trace of exhaustion, weariness, or pain, Heejin tries to remember the sight in front of her—it’s been so long since Hyunjin has looked so innocent. 

 

When Hyunjin wrinkles her nose some time later (Heejin isn’t sure if it’s hours or minutes, the concept of time bleeding away from her), Heejin knows well enough that Hyunjin is starting to come to her senses. Suddenly, rising up, Hyunjin runs to the grass. Knowing what is to come, Heejin quickly follows and gathers the girl’s hair before she vomits. Taking the hair tie on her wrist and looping her hair into a ponytail, Heejin rubs her back and gently reassures her through her sickness. When Hyunjin stumbles back to kneel on the concrete after throwing up, Heejin rubs her shoulders.

 

“I’ll be right back; stay here.”

 

It’s not like Hyunjin could move without feeling like a megaton of bricks weren’t on her so she doesn’t even need Heejin’s command to stay. Moments later, Heejin reappears with a roll of tissue paper, two bottles of water, a bottle of painkillers, and a granola bar. Guiding her back to the bench and away from the stench on the grass, Hyunjin rests her head on Heejin’s shoulder after taking a swig of water.

 

“You ransacked Ryujin’s house?”

 

Heejin breathes a sigh of laughter and relaxes into the bench, “Maybe so.”

 

Hyunjin laughs too and the morning air is a comfortable bubble of peace that the two girls hadn’t shared together in far too many days gone by. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

 

Heejin leans her head on Hyunjin’s, finally feeling the exhaustion hitting her, “I’ll always want to take care of you, Hyunjin.”

 

Hyunjin fiddles with her fingers and does her best to keep still to not disrupt the intimacy that she has so desperately missed, “I remember everything from last night, Heejin.”

 

Hyunjin can feel the deep breath of air Heejin takes in and it reminds her to do the same, “Do you?”

 

When Hyunjin lightly nods her head, Heejin’s head moves with it and it works at lulling her even more to sleep, “I meant every word that I said, Heejin.”

 

Heejin’s voice is low, thick with exhaustion, “And so did I.”

 

Hyunjin stops breathing when she looks back at last night’s conversation. “Every word?”

 

“Every single one, Hyunjin.”

 

“How could you still love me?”

 

Heejin almost nods off to sleep, but has it in her to reply, “How could I not? As long as you’re Hyunjin, no matter which version of you that you are, I’ve come to learn that I’ll still love you unconditionally.”

 

“That’s a lot of conditions to overpass.”

 

Slurring her words now and her lids are dragging from the heaviness weighed on them, Heejin murmurs, “I’d pass all of ‘em if it’s you because I know that your heart’s golden, Hyun.”

 

When Hyunjin readjusts Heejin to rest her head on her lap, Heejin’s fingers blindly find hers before lacing them together, “Sleep. We’ll figure the rest of this out later.”

 

Heejin just hums, blissfully losing herself in a sleep that wasn’t brought on by the tormenting thoughts of guilt and affliction.

 

Waiting long enough for Heejin to drift deeper into sleep, Hyunjin gently lifts her head to leave without waking her. Opening the patio door, Hyunjin is not surprised to see people crashed in the living room, the house a total mess. Opening the front door too, Hyunjin pats around her pocket for her keys. Locating them and unlocking her car that is across the street from Ryujin’s house, Hyunjin returns to the backyard, wary of the trash and vomit on the floor. Carefully picking Heejin up and kicking the doors behind her closed, Hyunjin briefly struggles with getting her passenger seat door open, but succeeds nonetheless. Resting Heejin’s head on the headrest and buckling her in, the compartment in front of Heejin almost highlights with red neon lights. Taking a stray bag in her car and throwing the orange canisters of weed in them, Hyunjin runs back to the house and places it at the kitchen table.

 

Leaving it behind, leaving behind one of the things that placed her so far away from Heejin, Hyunjin feels the world turn at a different pace for her—moves in a way that Hyunjin misses. Looking at the sleeping girl beside her before she starts her drive to Heejin’s home, Hyunjin promises to be better. For herself, for Heejin. 

 

When Heejin wakes, it's two in the afternoon and she is met with an array of the paper cranes hung on her ceiling. Frowning, Heejin recalls falling asleep at Ryujin’s house. (She remembers because her butt was definitely unhappy with the lack of cushion underneath it). Blearily raising her head, the sight of Hyunjin sitting at her desk and folding paper cranes is a sight that feels a lot like heaven.

 

(Heejin started buying origami paper when she started having the money to do so. Under the guise of wanting to be taught, Heejin just buys the paper so that Hyunjin could fold paper cranes whenever she wanted to if she were at her house).

 

Wanting to scratch her eyes, Heejin quietly groans at the dryness in them. Looking at her bedside table, the picture of Hyunjin and her still faces down (something she did the night of Winter Formal amidst her anger and paper crane ripping). Lifting the frame back up, Heejin can’t help how she mirrors the same smiles in them. Everything is starting to feel the way it should; the peace is finally coming back to her.

 

Watching as Heejin slips out of bed and walks out of her room, Hyunjin resumes her paper crane making and waits for Heejin to come back. After a couple of minutes, Heejin is wearing the glasses that Hyunjin loves seeing on her and it makes her smile fondly at the girl in front of her, “Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.”

 

Heejin hums a greeting back and sits in Hyunjin’s lap without hesitance, sleepily nuzzling into her. 

 

It’s odd how quickly Heejin reverts to what was once normal for them—the cuddling and the domestic comfort of being together.

 

(The truth of it was that if everything turned out to be some crazy dream, Heejin wanted to milk it for what it was worth, to take advantage of finally being able to be close to her. She has missed Hyunjin too much to let such a dream slip by).

 

As Heejin continues to sleep, so does Hyunjin’s paper crane construction. Wanting to change up making regular sized cranes, Hyunjin takes to cutting the paper in penny-sized dimensions. Taking the challenge of folding tiny paper cranes, Hyunjin eventually makes enough for cranes to litter the whole expanse of Heejin’s neat desk. 

 

When Heejin wakes again, she doesn’t expect to find Hyunjin in her room, nonetheless her cuddled up on her lap and into her arms.

 

(As it turns out, her night and morning wasn’t some crazy dream.)

 

Now scrolling through her phone and tracing shapes on Heejin’s waist, the feeling of being in Hyunjin’s arms is something that Heejin relishes in after long-missing the comfort of feeling so secure.

 

Speaking lowly and patting her face for the disappearance of her glasses, Heejin clears her throat, “This is for sure not a dream?”

 

Hyunjin hands the glasses that she put on the table after finishing her fifth tiny paper crane back to her and laughs at the sleepy bewilderment in Heejin’s voice, “Last time I checked, this is reality.”

 

Adjusting her glasses and making sure they don’t slip down her nose, Heejin unravels her numb arms that were around Hyunjin’s neck, “Can you check again?”

 

When Hyunjin kisses the mole on the back of her right hand, it brings a rush of euphoria that Heejin has missed, “That was pretty real, at least by my standards of measurement.”

 

Heejin smiles and it’s bright and wide and it gives their hearts the peace that they’ve been yearning for, “I don’t know—that’s something Dream You would do.”

 

Hyunjin laughs and it’s brimming with a joy so tangible that a dream would never be able to replicate it, “Dream Me is just a product of Real Me. I promise, Heejin, everything from last night to right now is real.”

 

When Heejin gets off of Hyunjin’s lap and stretches out the kinks in her body, the love and admiration in the girl’s eyes is showing at full unbridled vulnerability.

 

“Wanna make some breakfast?”

 

Hyunjin would never turn down breakfast (even if it was two in the afternoon) especially if it’s breakfast making with Heejin.

 

(Albeit, Heejin doesn’t do much except for mixing eggs if needed. They have both learned that they’re better off with Heejin sitting on the kitchen counter watching rather than cooking).

 

Making an omelette, Hyunjin takes to cutting vegetables while Heejin starts with the eggs. Cracking them without getting a shell in them, it’s a personal victory for Heejin. (It’s a victory that gets her to dance and Hyunjin can’t help how she laughs at the sight of Heejin’s happiness). Over a plate of omelettes and bowls of rice, banana milk in tow, Heejin muses at how ethereal Hyunjin looks sitting at her kitchen table. 

 

Even if things have changed, even if they have changed—both collectively and individually—some things remain.

 

Like how the sun makes the coffee brown in Hyunjin’s eyes shine, how Hyunjin’s smile makes Heejin’s heart do flips, how Heejin loves her still. 

 

The afternoon isn’t spent unveiling the questions and explanations of the past. It’s a peaceful and happy affair of two teenagers in love. As much as there is to unravel, as much as they both want to talk, breakfast is not the place for such conversation. After breakfast and the two clean up, Heejin is shuffling through her cabinet.

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

“A jar.”

 

Looking at her in confusion, Hyunjin pads Heejin’s head from hitting the top of the cabinet when she shifts positions, “Why?”

 

“For all of the paper cranes you made.”

 

Hyunjin’s eyebrows rise up in shock, “You want all of them?”

 

Muffled from how far Heejin’s head is buried in her cabinet, Hyunjin can barely catch onto her words, “I’ll want all of the cranes you make.”

 

(Heejin always wanted them, but after ripping the special pink one Hyunjin gave her that one night, Heejin wants to treasure every single fold and crease of each crane that Hyunjin carefully crafts).

 

Heejin soon learns that one jar isn’t enough for all of the cranes Hyunjin made in the meantime of her peaceful slumber. Fitting all of the small ones in it, however, Heejin places the jar by the picture frame on her bedside table. Finding a home for the bigger ones that Hyunjin made, her small flock of cranes on her ceiling grows impressively.

 

“You didn’t get sick of folding these?”

 

Hyunjin shakes her head, her fond eyes looking around Heejin’s room, her heart warming at all of the birds scattered around in it, “I could never get sick of making them when they remind me of you.”

 

Hyunjin pauses before sitting on Heejin’s bed.

 

“I tried folding paper cranes when we weren’t talking. I couldn’t even finish one. It was- it hurt too much for me to even get past the fourth fold.”

 

(How paper cranes became a symbol of hurt for Hyunjin contradicts how paper cranes became Heejin’s small sliver of hope. It’s telling enough of how their separation impacted them. How Heejin desperately needed something to cling onto even if she was the one to leave, how Hyunjin was reminded of the one who left by folding the wings of paper cranes.)

 

“Every morning I woke up, I wanted to text you good morning and a song recommendation. But then, I had to force myself to try to forget about you just to be able to move on with my day. It never worked—of course it would never work because you’re you and I’m me and that’s just not possible to do.”

 

When Heejin joins her on her bed, Hyunjin flops to her back and stares at the paper cranes hanging from her ceiling, waiting for Heejin lie down with her. Feeling the bed dip at the weight pressed down on it, Hyunjin continues, “So, I did the next best thing. I did whatever I could to avoid you in every way possible because even the sound of your voice could get me to think about you. And, God, it was so stupid of me to think that I could just _stop_ thinking about you. As if I could ever forget about loving you or being with you.”

 

When Hyunjin puts an arm behind her head to support it, Heejin notices how quickly Hyunjin loses confidence.

 

“And I guess, the greater reason why I was so hellbent on avoiding you was that I was so convinced that you’d be better off without me. Because you were right about me being reckless and stupid. Doing weed is one thing, but distributing it in the way that I was, especially in the position that I was in, could’ve really hurt my future. But, at the time, I had so much on my mind that I didn’t see it that way. I just needed money and an out that I took the first opportunity that came. And I mean, if I had been caught, how would people look at you? I couldn’t and didn't want to be the person to drag you down with me; you’ve worked way too fucking hard to be judged for my own mistakes.”

 

Addressing the questions that Heejin has, she does her best to process the things Hyunjin has finally revealed, “Why did you need money? Couldn’t your dad have helped you out?”

 

Hyunjin bitterly laughs and it’s wrought with disappointment and a tinge of sadness. “My dad doesn’t like how I look at you. He cornered me and told me to cut you off because you ‘were the source of my unnatural human behavior.’ As if leaving you would stop me from liking girls, as if I could even cut you off without putting myself through pain. So, I told him to fuck off and he cut me off instead. He stopped helping me out with basketball and I needed the funds to keep playing so that I could still get those scholarships. But, somehow, I guess he won because I cut myself off from you under my own digression.”

 

Turning to her side to face Hyunjin, the other girl does the same. Raising her pinky up and waiting for Hyunjin’s shorter one to lock with hers, Heejin’s eyes are soft, but driven, “Promise me that you won’t play martyr again? Our relationship isn’t some sacrifice for you to make on your own. No matter how shitty the situation is, promise me that you’ll talk it out with me? And I’ll promise to be patient with you—to wait for you when you’re ready to talk about it so that we can be level-headed about things to avoid hurting each other like this again. Because I don’t think I could go through this pain another time.”

 

When Hyunjin links her pinky with hers, there is a sense of security and hope, optimism.

 

“I promise that I’m going to do my best by your side. I promise to work on lowering my defenses and letting you in because I know that it’s frustrating for you to see me suffering without even giving you a clue on what it is I’m going through. I can’t promise perfection or that I won’t hurt you again, but I can promise that it’ll never be in my intention to hurt you. I love you, Heejin, and I’m going to do the best that I can to show you that.”

 

Hearing the words that Heejin only ever dreamed of Hyunjin saying, Heejin doesn’t want to stop the urge she gets to nuzzle her nose with Hyunjin’s. When the other girl giggles at her show of affection and pulls her into her arms, Heejin feels her own heart’s elation.

 

Wrapping Hyunjin into watching _Naruto_ with her, Heejin has the smallest after thought.

 

“Wait. Who was that girl?”

 

Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What girl?”

 

Heejin almost grimaces when the memory of Hyunjin kissing another girl floods in, “The girl who kissed you after you won the championships.”

 

Hyunjin wants to shrivel in embarrassment—that wasn’t her finest moment. She doesn’t normally like to throw her kisses around, but lost in the thrill of winning and the temporary relief from the turmoil that had been biting at her, a cheerleader kissing her was the least of her worries.

 

“It was- um- Ryujin actually. It didn’t mean anything and it was just one of those caught in the moment kind of things.”

 

When Heejin nods in acknowledgement, Hyunjin links their pinkies together, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

 

Heejin shrugs, “It’s not like were together or anything, but it wasn’t my favorite thing to see.”

 

When Hyunjin kisses one of the moles on her neck, it’s enough to give Heejin goosebumps, “Well, the only person I plan on kissing is you so I think you’re in the clear.”

 

Pulling Hyunjin even closer to her, Heejin feels the girl’s smile on her neck, feels her own lips doing the same, “I better be the only person you plan on kissing.”

 

Pulling the rest of her body on top of Heejin and holding herself up with her hands and knees, Hyunjin takes her time looking at the peace in Heejin’s eyes, the carefree smile on her lips, and the happy glow that reminds Hyunjin of when they were younger, “I’m going to do better than the kiss I gave you when we were five. That’s for sure. I’m going to mean it this time.”

 

Slowly leaning in and nudging her nose against Heejin’s, Heejin can feel how her heartbeat pounds hard enough against her chest for her to feel it in her ears. Instead of the soft lips she was expecting on hers, wiggling fingers tickle at her stomach while Hyunjin blows raspberries into her neck. Amidst the laughing and thrashing, Hyunjin’s knees keep her locked and her fingers are relentless, but still, Heejin can hear the playful joy in Hyunjin’s voice breaking through her gasps of laughter, “But, not today, Heekkie! A tickling for you today!” When Heejin can finally tear Hyunjin’s fingers away from tickling her (or Hyunjin finally gives her mercy), everything feels the way it should, feels as if the universe fell into place for them.

 

Brushing Heejin's hair away that got mussed up in their playing, Hyunjin takes off the glasses resting on Heejin’s face and carefully puts them on her bedside table before speaking in the same reverent voice that Heejin has always loved, “And a kiss for your every mole today! Except for the one under your lips. I’ll save that one for later.” The kisses that Hyunjin leaves on her cheek, by the corner of her eye, her arms, and hand are chaste and pure—even the ones that she brushes against her neck feel innocent and wholesome.

 

Being with Hyunjin like this reminds her of when they were younger and still innocent, unjaded by the world. The unadulterated joy and beaming optimism for the future looks even better after triumphing against the universe’s cruel plans. 

 

Hyunjin does kiss her later, but only a day later. There’s something about parks and the moonlight. If Heejin thought Hyunjin looked pretty under the glow of the moon, Hyunjin thought the same for Heejin. This time, compared to all of the times before, irrevocably and undeniably so, Heejin looks especially beautiful with love on her sleeve. Leaning against the pillars that support the pull-up bar with Heejin’s arms wrapped around her waist and her warm eyes being illuminated by the moon, Hyunjin kisses her and Heejin’s lips taste like banana milk and the strawberry chapstick that she wears. 

 

Hyunjin kisses her and this time, it means something more than just childish interest and curiosity.

 

This time it means love and when Hyunjin walks her home again at night, she retrieves a yellow crane from her mailbox. Upon opening it to Hyunjin’s request, the same neat writing that Heejin knows Hyunjin had to try particularly hard for, Heejin kisses her soft and slow and mumbles her answer in between their lips.

 

_My wonderful Heekkie, may I call you mine?_

 

In this universe, in every possible timeline of living, her answer will always be yes.

 

Before Heejin goes to bed, next to the picture of Heejin and Hyunjin with paper crowns on their head on their first day of kindergarten with their bright toothless smiles, the yellow crane is a symbol of hope and healing, happiness. Everything that Hyunjin gave to her.

 

Just as paper cranes reminded Hyunjin of Heejin, so did they remind her of Hyunjin. They remind her of everything to treasure and love. 

 

Synonymous to that, she’ll love and treasure everything that Hyunjin is and will come to be. No matter how she changes—now matter how Heejin changes—one thing will remain the same. 

 

A love that is unconditional is unchanging but still ever-growing.

 

And if there is anything that was indubitable, it is the fact that Heejin and Hyunjin are inevitable, a natural part of the universe like a cause and effect.

 

Unlike the promises made before, the promises that she broke, Heejin keeps to this one.

 

Loving Hyunjin is something that she could do.

 

Unconditionally, faithfully, and wholeheartedly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> like always, thank you for reading and giving me the time for your care and interest. i appreciate hearing your feedback, whether or not if i get back to you :D
> 
> find me @twinklingsana (both my twitter/cc) if you'd like :3


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